


Risk A Little Faith

by thisiswherethefishlives



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Pre-Slash, Snuggling, mack takes care of fitz, migraines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3232499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisiswherethefishlives/pseuds/thisiswherethefishlives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since he woke up from the coma, Fitz has suffered from migraines. It's been debilitating, but in the face of his friends and co-workers that no longer know how to interact with him he ends up withdrawing himself, keeping the migraines secret.<br/>No one notices. At least, no one notices until Mack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Risk A Little Faith

He doesn't like to complain. It seems like such a small thing when everyone he works with fights evil on the daily, putting their lives on the line for the greater good, often fighting the unknown - the alien - all the while being hunted by the people they protect. So, no. He doesn't like to complain when the migraines come over him. After all, it's just a headache.

Generally, he can tell when a migraine is going to hit - he's more irritable than usual, his aphasia acts up leaving him even more screwed than usual, and he develops a stiff neck unlike anything he had known before Jemma saved him. It's not that he's ungrateful, he would have done the same thing - would have looked for any means to save her... in fact, that's what he had done. He's not so sure, anymore, if Jemma would have saved him if she knew he would come back so damaged. Too damaged to stick around for... along with the aphasia, and the loss of his motor skills, and the goddamn specter of his best friend haunting him, for the first time in his life he started getting migraines.

They come on slowly until they don't, until he's reduced to a whimpering mess in the privacy of his room - curled under the blankets, hands clutched around his skull as if it will help keep him together. It doesn't.

Nothing helps. Not the aspirin, or the tea his mum always made when she would get headaches. The only thing that helps is passing out until the pain leaves. On a good day, his migraines may last for an hour or two... on a not-so-good day? So far, the longest a migraine lasted was twenty-four hours. He didn't call down to the lab to let them know, and no one came to check on him. No one noticed. In some ways, it was a blessing because they all pity him enough now, he doesn't need to give them another reason to shake their heads sadly at him when they think he isn't working. He's had enough of being "poor Fitz" to last a lifetime. Of course, there's also the fact that he's never been more isolated - he's never been so lonely before... and he had been lonely. Being a pre-teen genius will do that to a person.

Now it's just him, and he's surrounded by people that he used to consider friends. Now Skye and Trip smile awkwardly and try to make small talk, but he can see them wince every time he can't find the words that he's looking for. They never hang around for long. Then, there's Coulson and May... they tend to hang back from him these days, having run out of uplifting platitudes months ago. He can feel their eyes linger on him and it makes his skin crawl because he can feel their pity and he can see their disappointment every time that he isn't better. They aren't the only ones left disappointed.

The techs that they recruited to work in the lab... they keep their distance as well, but they whisper about him. How sad it is, how they would have rather died. It's as if someone told them he was deaf as well as brain-damaged... but he can't bear to call them out. He bears it with the same lack of grace that he bears anything - lashing out, or storming away, or ignoring them outright. They just believe that he's difficult to work with, and they learned over time to keep their distance.

It's nice and all, that he can tell when a migraine is coming, but it doesn't help him now when he's hunched over the toilet bowl, tears streaming down his face as he dry heaves. It's a bad one, this time. It's throbbing pain, and it's nausea, and it's a lightheadedness that has him terrified of passing out - if he falls to the right side he could crack his head on the tub, if he goes to the left he could hit the sink. The bathroom is the worst place to be right now, but he refuses to throw up in his bed again.

Lifting up to his knees, he turns the faucet on to blast cold water, managing to get his hand under the stream. The cold water keeps him from the edge, keeps him away from the swooping feeling that's taken over his body, and it feels so good despite the pain in his head and the roiling mess in his stomach. He rests his head gently against the porcelain sink, reveling in the cool press and the sound of the water pouring down the drain. It hurts, but it's something to focus in, and he finds himself getting lost in the sound.

Later, he'll blame the running water for not hearing Mack's knocking at the door, or the concerned lilt to his voice. It would explain why he doesn't hear Mack jimmy the door open, and why he's taken by surprise when Mack lifts him bridal style away from the bathroom and into the darkened bedroom. The blackout shades were drawn earlier in preparation, and he can't help but think that he's getting better at this whole migraine thing as he allows Mack to tuck him under the covers. He's too wracked with pain to put up a fight, and for once in their relationship Mack doesn't seem to see the point in talking with him. He registers a cool, damp cloth being pressed against his forehead before being placed over his eyes. There's a soft brush of fingers against his cheek, and just like that he's out.

Opening his eyes, it's the best kind of relief because the pain is gone. He's exhausted, but he'd rather battle exhaustion than the debilitating headaches. The fleece blanket feels soft against his skin, and he's halfway to burying back under the blankets to sleep, but then he sees Mack hunched over his desk breathing deeply, and while part of him wants to focus on how beautiful Mack looks when he's sleeping... all he can focus on is how ashamed he feels. Ashamed and more than a little angry, because he didn't ask for Mack to come in and play hero. This is his burden, and he never wanted to share it - to advertise yet another weakness to the team. Stuck between his desire to wake Mack up so that he can tell him off and the need to avoid the confrontation, Fitz busies himself with taking in the soft planes of Mack's face, relaxed and gentle in his sleep. He really is a handsome man, tall and strong, and those muscles... but right now, he just looks vulnerable. Fitz folds his pillow to allow for a better angle to watch Mack, and he settles in for what could be a long wait.

It isn't. It's not a long wait, that is. With a groan, Mack pushes back from the desk and stretches. Fitz can hear the popping in his back, and all he wants to do is look, but he manages to avert his eyes before Mack notices his staring. He can tell the moment that Mack notices that he's awake by the way he inhales deeply before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He feels hot with shame, with resentment, and all he wants to do is close his eyes and pretend that they don't have to talk about what happened last night. So he does close his eyes, and he waits for Mack to get up and leave - waits for him to take a hint. He should know better.

"Y'know, Turbo. My mom used to get horrible migraines. She went to doctor after doctor, and for years she went untreated. I remember that there were days I couldn't come inside the house after school, because any noise would hurt her. I remember how scared she was when the migraines would come on, and I remember that each time she had one I would be a little scared that she wouldn't make it... of course, I was just a kid, but at the time I was always scared for her. I would spend the time that she wasn't suffering watching her face like a hawk, and eventually I could anticipate her migraines better than she could. It wasn't a great thing to grow up with, but eventually she found a pain reliever that worked, and she learned how to read her own body enough to take her medication before she was unable to function. She had the support of our family, and she had doctors working with her, and she was able to find relief. I'm telling you this so that you understand how I knew about your migraines. I grew up cataloging the signs, and frankly I'm a little shocked that no one else has realized what's going on with you. I'm hoping that you can help me understand why you're bearing this pain on your own."

There's a pause, and it lingers between them, but Fitz can't make himself open his eyes. It's too much, but he can manage words with his eyes closed. It's the least he can do after Mack took care of him.

"I... these are new. Ever since th- the..." The words aren't coming to him, so he gestures towards his head, hoping that Mack understands what he's unable to say. "I don't like to complain. I shouldn't be alive, and I know that... this is just another- it's a... another disappointment."

"You're a smart man, Fitz. Probably the smartest man I've ever met, but you have to know that you have a team behind you. You have a group of people that have access to medications, who are willing to support you - to help you - who _care_ about you. I know that I do. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. Migraines don't make you a disappointment. Hell, I don't think there's anything you could do that would make you a disappointment."

He sounds so warm and sincere that Fitz can't help but squint his eyes open just enough to take the other man in. He's sitting a foot away from him, but it's the closest Fitz has been to another person since Jemma left him, possibly longer, and all he wants at this moment is to feel safe.

"Would you... would you lie with me for a bit? I'm just so tired." Mack quirks an eyebrow at him, and his look alone speaks volumes. "We can dis-d... um. Can we talk about it later? I'm not going anywhere either."

"Yeah, Turbo. A nap in an actual bed sounds pretty good right about now."

Standing up to pull off his flannel pullover, Mack kicks off his shoes before pulling the blankets back.

"Nope. Stop. No jeans! This bed is a no jeans zone."

Fitz can feel his cheeks flush in embarrassment, and the feeling just makes it worse, but he's slept in jeans before and it's not comfortable. Thinking about Mack sleeping next to him in just his underwear though, that may be a plus to the request - it certainly isn't helping the rampant blush that's crawling over him. Rather than look, he squeezes his eyes closed again and turns to face the wall. Mack doesn't say anything about the demand, but Fitz can hear it when he undoes his belt, and he registers the thud of his jeans hitting the floor. Again the covers are lifted up, but this time Mack slips into bed behind him, moving close enough to play big spoon to Fitz's little.

"Is this okay, Turbo?"

It's a tentative question that would have Fitz rolling his eyes if his heart wasn't trying to kick out of his chest. Instead of answering, he reaches back to pull Mack's arm tighter around him, wriggling closer until he's surrounded by Mack.

"Y'know, Turbo... this isn't how I saw myself spending time in your bed. It's not a bad thing, I'm just sayin'."

Hushing the other man, Fitz allows the warmth and safety to lull him closer to the edge of sleep. He can feel Mack's breathing even out, ghosting across his skin as his lips brush softly against the shell of his ear. There's a lot that they will have to discuss when they wake up, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't terrified of it... but feeling Mack pressed against him, it does something to his chest that makes it feel tight and loose at the same time. For the first time since he came out of the coma, he can't help but risk a little faith that things might work out after all.


End file.
